


A sweet moment set aside for us

by champsbeau



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Drunken Kissing, Drunkenness, Episode 6, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Gap Filler, M/M, Mid-episode 6, Missing Scene, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-22
Updated: 2019-07-22
Packaged: 2020-07-10 20:34:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,977
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19911784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/champsbeau/pseuds/champsbeau
Summary: The demon woke up the next morning feeling something different in the air. As if the reality had been, somehow, restored by a young boy from Tadfield. The world felt almost, but not entirely, the same as it used to be before all of the mess.One of the things that were different, for example, was the fact that Aziraphale’s arm was wrapped around his chest, keeping him very close.





	A sweet moment set aside for us

**Author's Note:**

> This is just another fic of that precious gap in Episode 6. In which Aziraphale goes to Crowley's flat, they switch bodies and God knows what happens.
> 
> Thank you Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett for creating those lovely, lovely characters.
> 
> The title is from Queen.

They were sitting side by side on a wooden bench in the centre of Tadfield, waiting for the bus to arrive and take them home. Aziraphale had delivered the box to The International Express man, and the bus was just around the corner of the street. Even though it said “Oxford” on the front, the driver would drive them to London. Not knowing why exactly.

“I suppose I should get him to drop me off at the bookshop.” Aziraphale said, distractedly, as he looked at the bus. He had a small smile on his face, and didn’t notice when Crowley turned to stare at him.

“It burned down, remember?” Crowley said. His tone was softer than usual. He could almost hear the penny dropping and Aziraphale’s expression – like he was going to cry – made the demon feel his stomach twist in the most unpleasant way. He wanted to hold the angel’s hand and comfort him. He didn’t. “You can stay at my place, if you like.”

Crowley saw the surprise in Aziraphale’s expression as well as the desire to say yes. But as always, the angel was thinking too much and along the thoughts, the hesitation came. 

“I don’t- I don’t think my side would like that.” Aziraphale said.

“You don’t have a side anymore,” Crowley whispered. He paused. They had both lost so much that day. Aziraphale had lost his bookshop, his body – momentarily. Crowley had lost his Bentley. He’d lost Aziraphale – momentarily. They had lost their places in Heaven and Hell. He was sure they weren’t welcomed in the ethereal and occult premises anymore. Not after everything that happened on that day. Not after avoiding the Apocalypse and the Great War that was planned to start. “Neither of us do. We’re on our own side.”

The last time Crowley said they were on their own side, it didn’t work. They fought and the next thing he knew was that Aziraphale had been discorporated. It felt like ages and not days ago, but the hours hadn’t worked properly these past few days. Aziraphale didn’t say anything this time. He was thinking. Crowley was glad enough that the angel didn’t shut him off immediately. He could accept the silence for now.

“Like Agnes said, we are going to have to choose our faces wisely.” The demon said. He made a signal with his arm for the bus to stop and got up. They walked into the bus and sat side by side, sharing the ride in silence. The angel took the bottle of 1921 Châteauneuf-du-Pape from Crowley’s hand and took a long swing before handing it over.

“What do you think she meant by that?” Aziraphale eventually asked. They were getting closer to London and the bottle had been emptied and miraculously refilled. Which meant that an angel and a demon were getting lightheaded.

Crowley, that up until now was staring at the window whilst he focused on the sensation of Aziraphale’s warmth against his side, shrugged slightly.

“She’s quite literal in her prophecies.” He said, thinking. He knew Aziraphale was smart and had already figured out what they needed to do, and that soon enough the forces of Heaven and Hell would try to punish them for what happened. It was only a matter of being prepared for it.

“We should do it as soon as we possibly can, then.” Aziraphale said, meaning that they were both on the same page about the meaning behind Agnes’ words.

“As soon as we arrive at my place.”

“Do you think it is going to work?”

“I don’t know, it might. She said so.” Crowley sighed, then pouted his lips. “It might not work. But it’s the best plan we’ve got.”

It was settled then. Aziraphale would stay with him whilst they waited for _whatever_ that was going to happen. Then, he would rebuild the bookshop and go back to living there.

They were silent again.

Crowley let himself wonder what it was going to be like to own Aziraphale’s body for a few days. Maybe months or even years. Crowley was no stranger to habiting another person’s body, having done the occasional possession for whatever Hell’s purposes, but this would be _Aziraphale’s_ body. It would be _something_ indeed. Looking at himself in the mirror and finding the lips he stared at for years. Tracing himself with the hands he felt so warm and soft against his skin whenever they would touch. _Hell._

He couldn’t think about this or else he would burst right there at the bus seat. He could feel his cheeks burning, and could only hope that the angel was too distracted to notice that.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale called, snapping Crowley out of his own train of thoughts as he pointed at the window. “We’re here.”

Indeed, they were in front of Crowley’s fancy apartment building. The bus had stopped and the driver waited patiently, wondering what on earth he was doing in the West End of London. Crowley followed Aziraphale out of the bus and into the building. He felt nervous. Well, agitated. Did the Angel know this new flat of his? Crowley wasn’t sure. They’d always spent so much time at the bookshop. He hoped none of his plants had the audacity of dying and making the place look bad.

Crowley snapped his fingers and the door to the flat opened. It was spacious, white and elegantly furnished. He regarded himself a minimalist but still owned some completely useless things, but he liked to think the human he tried to be would live happily in a flat like that. He could feel Aziraphale’s eyes inspecting every inch of the luxurious space, and smiled when the Angel walked straight to the kitchen.

“Oh, good gracious.” Aziraphale sighed happily at the sight of a fridge, a stove and a door to a wine cellar that didn’t need a thermostat to maintain the perfect temperature. “I honestly didn’t think you’d own any of this. Why do you?”

“Well, you know.” Crowley shrugged. It was just something that he thought he could have to maintain the human appearances. “Just in case an angel with an appetite decided to come visit me.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale smiled in the most pleasant way. He seemed comfortable enough to open the fridge and inspect the high-quality food that laid there unused. “If I’d known that was the case, we would have spent less time at the bookshop and more time here.”

The mention of the bookshop lessened Aziraphale’s smile, and Crowley felt his chest tighten slightly. The vivid memory of the books burning along with the wooden beams and the complete absence of Aziraphale from the world even if for a couple of hours still made Crowley scowl and not want to think about it anymore.

His lanky body was leaning against the wall so he could follow Aziraphale with his eyes. It was very good that the angel had returned to his body without the need for paperwork – that he wouldn’t be able to fill, with all that happened – and was now smiling and waving his hands as he spoke excitedly about what was inside Crowley’s fridge.

“Do you fancy another bottle?” Crowley asked eventually, pushing himself off the wall and walking to the wine cellar. “We did just save – well, _helped_ save the World.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Aziraphale had closed the fridge but now had in his hands a ciabatta sandwich he made from what he found most interesting in the kitchen. He was peckish, after all, being discorporated and saving the world in the same day had proven to be quite the adventure.

Crowley didn’t have the same quantity of wine he knew from experience that Aziraphale had in his bookshop. However, he had gathered some fine beverages for the past years, and was pleased he had the opportunity to share them with the angel. He never drank in his flat, never did anything other than water the plants and sleep for a couple of days.

He put the wine on the balcony of his kitchen and walked to the living room he hardly ever used. He chose a 1941 Saint Julien for no other reason than that it reminded him of Aziraphale. It was from the same year they found each other again – well, Crowley never lost track of the angel, but they weren’t on speaking terms for a while.

Sentiment. That’s the reason Crowley picked the wine. He was sure Aziraphale wouldn’t connect the dots.

He was wrong.

The angel’s hazel eyes welled slightly as he read the blurb for the details of the wine. Crowley was already sprawled on the comfortable white sofa of his living room, his back to the angel.

“Lovely year, that was.” Aziraphale said softly. He took hesitant steps towards the sofa and sat uncomfortably on the spot that wasn’t occupied by the demon’s long limbs. He couldn’t bother materialising a couple of glasses so he simply took a sip before nudging Crowley with the bottle.

“What year?” Crowley asked, even if he knew by now that Aziraphale had noticed what he’d done. He took a long sip of the wine. It was a good one. Light. Smelt like oak, tasted slightly of wood. He pretended to look at the blurb, quite like the angel had done moments ago, and raised his dark red eyebrows. “Oh yes. That year. Was it _really_ a good one?” Crowley scoffed and tried to sound as nonchalant as possible. He adjusted himself on the sofa so the angel would sit more comfortably. “For my side, _yeah_. Yours had to work extra hours.”

“I wasn’t- I wasn’t talking about that, really.”

“Then what were you talking about?” Crowley was in a particular mood now, and it involved getting Aziraphale to talk about things they hadn’t before. They had had many conversations about that over the past years, but somehow, they always avoided talking about the deeper issues that hovered their lives.

“Oh, you know what I’m talking about.” Aziraphale was cringing now, to Crowley’s amusement. The demon couldn’t help but smile, softly, and hope that the angel wouldn’t notice. “It was the year you saved me at the church. And saved my books. I don’t think I ever thanked you enough for that.”

“You didn’t because there was no need to thank me.” Crowley stated. He handed the bottle back to Aziraphale. It was a strange sensation. They had both saved each other many times throughout the years, when they really shouldn’t. It wouldn’t matter, anyway, because they were immortal beings that could simply incarnate again – but at the same time the thought of Aziraphale suffering and momentarily dying was one that Crowley simply hated.

Which is why he felt so emotional.

“I feel guilty that I wasn’t there to save you earlier.” He said, once again thinking about the damn bookshop. “Couldn’t save your books.”

Crowley watched as Aziraphale blinked and shook his head.

“Oh, my dear. The stakes were so much higher.” His fingers were gripping at the bottle of wine as he looked at the demon’s face. Crowley felt like the angelic eyes were piercing through his skull. “You shouldn’t worry about that. I’ll – miracle the books back to their place.”

Sometimes Aziraphale was so _good_ it made Crowley angry.

This was not one of those times.

Crowley, right now, felt like his entire universe was right there in front of him. He was experiencing a mixture of feelings he’d gotten used to by now, that was always associated with Aziraphale. Throughout the six thousand years of his life, he never felt that way about anything or anyone else.

“Right.” He whispered. “I’ll help you. It seems like a two-creature task.”

Aziraphale smiled gently and they started talking about his plans for the new bookshop. It was going to be exactly like the old one, obviously, but they were both enjoying themselves and the subject was light and filled their hearts with hope for the future.

They were on the third – or fourth – bottle, that kept miraculously being refilled whenever it was close to being finished. Crowley didn’t have his jacket anymore as he was feeling hot, and Aziraphale was sweating slightly. They were giggling about an old story from the XIX century. Aziraphale liked telling Crowley all of the things that happened when the demon was sleeping. 

“It was everywhere, even I almost bought one.” Aziraphale muffled a laughter at Crowley’s scandalised expression.

“It was _green_. Hideous.”

“Everybody was doing it, my dear.”

“Doesn’t fit your colour scheme.”

“Indeed. But _then_ I saw what those green dresses, wallpapers and carpets were doing to the people that had them.” Aziraphale let out another laughter. “I could _swear_ it was your doing.”

“Oh, _come on!_ ” Crowley scowled. “I could have never thought of something like that. But the humans, oh, they thought of a way to poison themselves with arsenic for the sake of fashion. They don’t need me.”

“They can get really creative, can’t they?”

“Yeah. And I was too busy having a nap.” Crowley added. They were both laughing now.

As the long conversation progressed, Aziraphale had moved his body closer to Crowley’s and the demon, that was once sprawled on the sofa, now sat up straighter, trying to get as close to the angel as possible. When their knees touched, both felt their head buzz with excitement.

“You’ve missed quite a few things, my dear.” The angel said, sighing happily, and took another long gulp of the delicious wine.

Crowley always adored when Aziraphale called him dear. His insides were warm and he felt cosy and so, so content.

He couldn’t believe they still had to deal with something related to Heaven and Hell before they could live – hopefully – peacefully. They won a battle today, but he still felt like they could lose everything.

“Oh, angel,” Crowley sighed. “I’m so glad you’re here with me. I could never imagine a reality in which you’re not… Here.”

He didn’t mean just there, at his flat. He meant there in general, on Earth, sharing the same oxygen, the same reality as him. But also, the flat. He was glad Aziraphale was there at the flat.

Aziraphale was looking at him with kindness pouring from his eyes. He was a being of love and affection, and sometimes it really seemed these feelings radiated so much that the presence of the angel made the air around him feel kinder, softer.

“I could never imagine that either, my dear.” The words coming from Aziraphale’s lips were really soft. He didn’t look away, and it made Crowley put his sunglasses down. Hazel eyes stared at the yellow, slitted ones.

Crowley had had infinite opportunities to do one particular thing he desired throughout the years. He never felt like it was necessary, however, to show his affections for Aziraphale in the same fashion the humans did so often. They both knew where they stood for each other, they’d grown more and more comfortable in each other’s presences that it became hard to tell when one’s conscious ended and the other began.

But _now_ , now when Crowley felt the opportunity rise again, he didn’t feel like it was so unnecessary. He felt quite the opposite – like he _needed_ to grasp every single chance he could to be with Aziraphale even in ways he had never been, because they could both disappear from existence the next day. They could lose it all.

So, Crowley leaned in, closing the very few inches left between them, and pressed his lips to the angel’s in the way he thought about for six thousand years.

Aziraphale’s expression when Crowley pulled away wasn’t of surprise. His lips were turned into a smile, always so kind, and he sighed in a way that Crowley could – or maybe wanted to – describe as _overjoyed._ “That’s new.” He said. He sounded really giddy. “Are you really that worried about what’s going to happen next?”

Half of Crowley was irritated that Aziraphale only thought he would kiss him for because he was desperate and the other half was comforted that the angel was able to read him like a damn book. Better, even.

“Yessss.” The demon hissed, not angrily, but in the snake-like manner he sometimes did if too distracted. “I really don’t want us to fuck up this plan, angel.”

“We won’t.” Aziraphale was whispering now. He took one of Crowley’s hand. “We know each other quite well by now, don’t you think? Better than they know us?”

“Yessss.” Crowley nodded, hissing again.

“What else is on your mind, my dear?”

“That I really want to sober up, lie down on the bed and kiss you again. Could we do that?”

Instead of saying anything in reply, Aziraphale kissed Crowley.

Their lips were touching gently at first, as they were getting to know each other in a different way. Until gentle wasn’t enough. Crowley let go of Aziraphale’s hand to grab him by the waist, pulling him closer. He felt the angel melt against him, and then explore his back with those soft and perfect hands, caressing him through the dark clothes. He whimpered, feeling so pleased.

They kissed and kissed like they couldn’t get enough of it. Why hadn’t they done this sooner? It was brilliant.

“My God, this is…” Aziraphale whispered into his lips, as if reading his mind.

“No, don’t call Her _now_.” Crowley huffed and pulled away the moment Aziraphale let out a delicious laughter. Soon enough they were both laughing, still completely drunk, and kept laughing until their stomachs were aching.

They finally decided to sober up. Crowley got up from the sofa and took hold of the bottle of wine, placing it on the coffee table. It would miraculously disappear by the next morning, so he didn’t need to worry too much about it.

“I was serious about lying on the bed, I’m knackered” he said. “Come.”

As Crowley turned to the corridor that led to the bedroom, he could feel that Aziraphale was silently following behind, taking the time to observe the many lustrous plants that shivered ever so slightly.

Crowley’s bedroom was also minimalistic and all of the decorations were white, apart from the very dark and fancy bedsheets he owned. One wouldn’t expect that much whiteness from a Demon’s bedroom, but those were the facts. The bedroom consisted of an awfully large bed, two nightstands and a frosted glass door that led to a closet. You could not say that someone had used the room in years, but sleeping was one of the human habits that Crowley really enjoyed.

As well as kissing, as he had just learned.

The demon snapped his fingers and the clothes he’d worn for days had been replaced by black pyjamas. The angel did the same. They both laid down under the comfortable covers, and looked at each other through the city lights that came from the large, curtain-less window.

“We haven’t done this in, what, 15 years?” Aziraphale chuckled.

“Where were we?” Crowley mused. He shifted on the bed so their feet were touching.

“Mali?”

“No, but it starts with an M.”

“Was it… Maui? Oh, yes!” Aziraphale’s face that was crunched in thought softened and he smiled widely. “I _remember_ now. Best malasadas in the world.”

Crowley rolled his eyes, but the memory was vivid as well. “I remember those.”

Before Adam and the whole Apocalypse mishap, they used to occasionally dismiss the Arrangement and visit the same place together. The excuse they used the most was related to convenience. Why bother getting two bedrooms whilst in a job abroad when they could share a bed? There were always occasional touches, intentional even, but not in the same open way such as now. Everything felt different now that they didn’t have Heaven and Hell to account for anymore.

They talked about that last breach in the Arrangement, when they decided to go to Hawaii and do the occasional sightseeing between temptations and blessings. They talked, and talked. And kissed. Their legs were tangled in each other, their arms keeping their bodies so close they were merely whispering. They laughed and got lost in each other. As if that was their last day together – which, could be, for all they knew.

Eventually they fell asleep. Crowley first, and then Aziraphale.

* * *

The demon woke up the next morning feeling something _different_ in the air. As if the reality had been, somehow, restored by a young boy from Tadfield. The world felt almost, but not entirely, the same as it used to be before all of the mess.

One of the things that were different, for example, was the fact that Aziraphale’s arm was wrapped around Crowley’s chest, keeping him very close. Somehow during the night their bodies managed to shift perfectly into a spooning position. Crowley felt Aziraphale’s chest pressed against his back. He felt the angel’s nose and lips on the back of his neck, felt their feet touching. It was perfect and Crowley didn’t want to move and ruin what was happening there.

He must have dozed off, because the next time his eyes opened Aziraphale was kissing his neck. And then his shoulder. Crowley’s entire body shivered and he stretched his legs, whimpering softly. “Morning, angel.”

“Mmmm.” Aziraphale sighed against Crowley’s shoulder. He seemed too comfortable with this new found intimacy. Like it was something he planned on doing for years, but never found the courage to do so. Crowley knew Aziraphale loved countless human behaviours and he sometimes wondered what other aspects of human life the angel indulged and never told him about.

“Do you feel it?” Crowley asked softly. “The kid. He did something.”

Aziraphale nodded. He still moved very lazily, not completely awake just yet. His hand traced the hem of Crowley’s pyjama pants and delved moved to his stomach, stroking him gently, feeling the warmth of the demon’s skin.

Crowley pressed his back against Aziraphale, really enjoying the sensation of the soft skin caressing his stomach and chest.

“This feels really good,” he mumbled, and felt Aziraphale’s smile against the back of his neck. Eventually, and Crowley couldn’t tell if it had been two minutes or two hours of just enjoying each other’s bodies like that, he felt Aziraphale let go a sorrowful breath. The angel squeezed Crowley’s waist so the other could turn and face him.

As they were staring at each other, Crowley knew that moment was over. Their little bubble was going to burst and it was going to be Aziraphale’s words of wisdom to do it.

“You know we should do it, dear. The plan.” The angel said, to Crowley’s dismay.

“I know,” he nodded, but his tone and body were hesitant.

“The sooner we do it, the more chances we’ve got.”

“I _know_.”

And so, they did it. Angel and demon closed their eyes and touched hands. When they stared at each other again, Crowley was Aziraphale and Aziraphale was Crowley. Hazel eyes had turned into yellow ones.

They could still recognise some traits even if their bodies were switched. Aziraphale had a way of arching his eyebrows that, if one stared closely at _Crowley_ ’s face, one could see it still there.

“Fuck!” Crowley-now-Aziraphale exclaimed, and that was it.

They were giggling like schoolgirls with a master plan.

When the fit of giggles finally stopped, they held each other tightly for the last time. It didn’t matter whose body was which. They were Aziraphale and Crowley. They were together. In their own side. Against everyone. Against Heaven. Against Hell. They felt, weirdly, indestructible. Everything could go horribly wrong, but it could also go incredibly right.

For now, they had each other.

They could stay there for a while longer before facing the reality of the very last day of the rest of their lives.

**Author's Note:**

> English is not my first language. If you spot any silly mistakes, feel free to let me know. 
> 
> I hope you liked it and, if so, please leave a comment. <3


End file.
